Or Forever Hold Your Peace
by Quatorz
Summary: An alternate to 'On my Way'. What if Quinn made it to the wedding after all? From Santana's POV. Faberry and Brittana.


**Title**: Or Forever Hold Your Peace  
**Author**: Quatorz  
**Rating**: R (language)  
**Word Count**: 8,893  
**Spoilers**: 3x14 - Sort of  
**Summary**: An alternate to version of 'On My Way'. What if Quinn made it to Rachel's wedding?  
**A/N**: I wanted to do an alternate version of OMW that didn't deal with the crash but instead set up the age old 'speak now or forever hold your peace' moment with Quinn at Rachel's wedding. But, strangely, this is Santana-centric. Features Faberry and Brittana.

I wasn't sure how to proceed, but months ago I started to develop a 'Sugar from the Future' fic that I liked-but ultimately lost my enthusiasm for. But in that I had the tools to put history back to how it was supposed to be-and have Quinn confront her feelings for Rachel. With a little help.

So this actually references a fic that I didn't write. I'm going beyond headcanon now to 'headfanon'. :D

* * *

The projectile-a round, red cannonball-exploded through the wall of the stronghold amid a shower of splintered wood shards. The angle of entry took it well above the intended target of assassination, but that wasn't its objective.

The salvo continued through the air, slamming into the opposing wall and maintaining enough inertia to critically impact the load bearing shaft that supported the entire structure.

Like Atlas in the eponymous Ayn Rand novel, the fractured support beam surrendered its burden, raining tons of concrete, wood and glass upon its unsuspecting and defenseless victim.

Well, _almost_ defenseless: the sonovabitch had a helmet.

With two black eyes and a gap toothed smile, the pig snorted its jubilation at Santana's utter and humiliating defeat.  
"Mutherf-!" she muttered-biting her lip to keep from swearing before remembering that-yes-they were at a wedding, but-no-it wasn't church. They were at the Justice of the Peace.

Santana was bored. And 'Angry Birds' was just pissing her off. What were they waiting for again? Oh, right.

"Face it, Quinn's not coming," she informed the dwarf-who was wearing the varnish off the goddamn wood floor with her pacing.

No wonder she couldn't line up her trajectories right with that back and forth going on right in front of her.

"She said she'd be here!" Rachel insisted, and resumed her pacing.

What was the big deal anyway? Who gave a shit if Quinn didn't show? Santana just caught the end of it, but it seemed like they had one of their infamous blowouts at the bridal shop. Ever since then, Berry had been on edge.

She did look pretty though. The dress was gorgeous. Finncopetent was a lucky dude, but how weird was this whole thing? Getting married in high school-and at the Justice of the Peace? That sucked, and everyone except Berry seemed to realize that.

Well, except her and Tina. But why was Berry settling for this? Tradition said that the bride's parents paid for the wedding. Santana met Berry's dads (and, omg, they were-like-the best. gays. ever) and had been to her house more times than she'd admit too without a polygraph. They certainly seemed to have bank. Enough for her to get married in style, anyway-and not at the damned Sucktice of the Peace.

_Huh_. She wondered whose parents had to pay when there were two brides? The tangent made her smile, and she settled the matter as fast as it had occurred to her: her family had more money than Britt's. They'd pay for the wedding. Maybe the Pierce's could do the rehearsal dinner...? That sounded pretty reasonable.

She had it all planned out. She figured they wouldn't be doing a church wedding anytime soon, so she wanted to do it on a beach-somewhere warm-and they'd be all kinda beach bum casual and barefoot. It'd totally be awesome.

"What are you thinking about?" Brittany smiled, and Santana realized she had a stupid grin on her face. She just shrugged. "Nothing," she lied. She hadn't told Britt her plan yet-and hadn't really admitted to herself just how much time she spent thinking about it. She even knew what they were going to wear: she would wear either a white dress shirt or T-shirt with a pair of white pants (overalls if she did the T-shirt thing) with the pant legs rolled up. That was important: her pant legs had to be rolled up. That's just how she saw it in the vision.

Britt would wear a white sundress with yellow flowers in her hair. And the ceremony would be performed under a trellis with the same flowers woven into it.

Someday, she smiled to herself. Someday...

"Any word from Quinn?" she asked her future partner, but the blonde just shook her head.

Finn entered with the boys in tow, announcing that it was time. They looked good in their suits, but to her it felt like they were about to do a number in the auditorium. It didn't feel real that Finn and Rachel were actually getting married.

It dawned on Santana that she expected someone or something to bust up this wedding today.

Was that bad? Or was she just intuitive? The sight of the Berry's and Hudson-Hummels huddled together and speaking in hushed whispers didn't exactly strike her as the portrait of ecstatic future in-laws. They looked more like desperate mutherfuckers trying to come up with a plan.

Santana watched Finn and Rachel argue for a second. Finnbecile was adamant that they had to go _now!_ Otherwise they'd lose their spot. That'd be a tragedy. Did'ya think maybe there should be a waiting period for getting married-like buying a gun?

Speaking of, Rachel was sticking to her metaphorical guns, insisting that they wait for Quinn. She fingered a quick text (and-watching her work those keys-Santana had to acknowledge that Berry had talented fingers) and received a reply back moments later.

"She's on her way," she smiled. "Just give it a couple more minutes," she implored her fiancée. "Please. I'll-I'll go talk to the Justice of the Peace myself-"

"I'll do it," Mr. Shue volunteered from across the room. Rachel thanked him, and then begged Finn silently with a nervous smile.

"All right," Finn groaned. He shuffled off to talk to the guys, pouting in his very Finn-like way. Quick: hide the chairs!

Rachel was such a lucky girl.

That was sarcasm for those keeping score at home.

Santana figuratively rubbed her chin. What the hell was goin' on here anyway? Like, Quinn was her bud, her bestie. She was her old Cheerios captain, and the two of them had been friends for years, but-

But, seriously, if her and Britt were about to get married and Quinn wasn't there, she sure as shit wouldn't hold up her own wedding. She'd just see her at the reception-you know?

Maybe it had to do with the fight at the dress shop? Now Santana wished that she'd listened in better. And she would have, but-

Well, Britt's zipper was stuck and...let's just say they were occupied.

Sugar came breezing back into the room. "I'm back," she announced.

"I thought you had to pee?" Mercedes grilled her.

"I did."

"Where'd you go: outside?" Tina laughed. "You have dirt all over your dress!"

The brunette regarded her fuchsia gown in dismay. "Sh-Sugar!" Sugar exclaimed, brushing off the soil as best she could.

"But you just left," Mercedes remarked.

Sugar addressed Tina first: "Yeah, the bathroom down the hall was being cleaned, and I get incredibly pee shy if I think someone's spying on me, so I went around to the back of the building."

Tina looked confused: "How did that help you be _less_ pee shy?"

"But you _just_ left," Mercedes repeated. "Not two seconds before you-"

"I wonder if there'll be cake?" Sugar perked up excitedly. Apparently deciding the conversation was over, she walked over to talk to the bride.

Brittany's eyes lit up. "Mm, cake!" she smiled. "I hope there'll be punch too."

"I'm sure there will be," Santana assured her. _If not, I'll go find you some_, she almost said-and then rolled her eyes at how much of a sap she'd become. "And apparently finger sandwiches also."

"Ew," Brittany pruned, "is the reception zombie-themed or something? That's not very appropriate for a wedding," she frowned.

Santana smiled inwardly.

"We'll find out when we get there, I guess," she shrugged.

Brittany nodded, satisfied with that answer. She surveyed their fellow Glee clubbers in their formal attire. "We look like we're going to prom," she smiled.

Mention of the prom brought back a flood of memories, most good, some...some not so great. Going with Karofsky instead of just having the guts to ask Brittany wasn't exactly one for the greatest hits reel. Neither was Kurt being awarded Prom Queen.

But it had ended on a high note, with Kurt walking back in there to receive his scepter (kid had balls, she'd give him that) and then he and Blaine danced while she and Mercedes performed 'Dancing Queen'-which totally rocked. Come to think of it, that was kinda the beginning of the Trouble-

"ABBA!" Santana blurted out.

A memory related to the greatest Swedish pop band of all time had just presented itself for review: Glee club-a couple months back, Quinn singing one of the three or four solos she ever performed in front of the group. She sang ABBA's 'Lay All Your Love on Me'.

It was a great performance and a good song. Santana knew it well because she and Mercedes had considered it in their prom set. Santana found an arrangement she liked almost as much as the original: a cover performed by Erasure from their EP _Abba-esque_.

Of course, they ended up doing 'Dancing Queen'-which turned out to be _amazingly_ appropriate once Kurt won-but they practiced the other song a few times just in case.

Santana was, like, a savant at memorizing lyrics, and so when Quinn messed up a word, she was probably the only one who caught it.

The original lyric went: _I wasn't jealous before we met, now every woman I see is a potential threat_.

Quinn had substituted 'person' for woman.

Which was totally unlike her. Even in the Cheerios, she mastered brand new routines before presenting them to the squad, spending hours and hours at home repeating the motions, ad infinitum, until they were perfect-until they were rote movements.

It was also part of why she was such a bitch sometimes: she never made a mistake on the field. She was perfect, and she was sure as shit ready to call out anybody who wasn't-even if they'd only been taught the routine ten minutes ago.

That's why her forgetting the word had stuck out like it did for Santana. That just wasn't very Quinn-like.

She could remember the applause in the choir room after the blonde finished, and then the inevitable barrage of questions: who was she singing it to? Quinn just laughed, saying that she honestly just liked the song.

Santana grinned and shook her head as Mercedes, Puck, and Tina kept badgering her. If she really was singing that to someone, there was no chance they would get her to crack. Quinn could keep a secret like nobody's business-especially her own. Shit, Harry's parents would still be alive if Quinn had been Secret Keeper.

Well, that and-you know-if they weren't fictional characters...

The only reason Santana hadn't give her a hard time about it was because _maybe_ she was going off the Erasure version-and Santana couldn't remember if they changed the line since they were dudes. And the last thing you wanted to do was call out Quinn Fabray and be wrong about it, so she let it go.

But an entirely new thought occurred to her: what if it wasn't an accident? What if...what if she hadn't flubbed that lyric at all? But why change it from woman to person if-

_Holy crap!_

Santana shot up from the couch. "Um, I'll be right back!"

"Are you okay?" Brittany looked concerned. "Your eyes are _anime_ big."

"I'm-I'm fine," Santana half-lied. Her head was spinning. "Just wait here. I'm going to get some air."

She paused for a moment, and took in the sight of Brittany wearing the fuchsia gown. "Madame President," she grinned, "have I told you how gorgeous you look in that?"

Britt blushed. "I love it when you call me that," she beamed. "And yes you did-at the dress shop," she waggled her eyebrows, eliciting a laugh from the Latina.

"You do too," Brittany returned the compliment.

Santana leaned in for a kiss (ignoring the 'awww's from the peanut gallery), reminding herself that-despite all the craziness-she should always find time for what's really important.

She turned on her heel and ran to find the less than ecstatic soon to be in-laws.

* * *

Santana found them in the empty hallway, doing that shouting/whispering thing that parents were so good at. Finn's parents looked stressed, but okay. Rachel's parents...well-

They didn't look so good. Especially her Jewish Dad. What was his name again: Hiram?

Santana grabbed the invitation from her clutch and scanned the names quickly. Ah: Hiram and LeRoy. The capital 'R' made sense now: she thought she'd heard Mr. Berry (the Jewish Mr. Berry) pronounce the other one's name 'La Roy'-like he was French of something-and not like '_Lee_-roy' the crack dealer from East Lima Heights Adjacent.

Maybe she'd just stick to Mr. Berry.

It looked like she arrived just in time: Hiram was starting to unravel.

"LeRoy, what are we going to do?" he beseeched, waving his hands dramatically at the ceiling. "We're going to have to go to Defcon-2."

LeRoy looked shocked. "Hiram-!"

"What choice do we have? We have to go to Defcon-2. In all the years, we've never been below a 'four' with Rachel. Now..." He shook his head, a man on the verge of defeat.

"Defcon two?" Burt inquired. "Like the Pentagon?"

LeRoy nodded.

"Well, what happens at Defcon two?" Burt continued.

"We don't know!" Hiram admitted. "We've never had to go below a four before today. We-"

A new thought occurred to him, and his face blanched. He turned desperately to LeRoy. "We're terrible parents...!"

Burt frowned: "No, you're not. Look-"

"How else can you explain it, Burt? If we weren't terrible parents, we'd know how to handle this situation.

"Watching 'She's Out of Control' didn't prepare us for this," he lamented.

Burt looked between them. "What's that: like a parenting intervention course?"

LeRoy looked apologetic, even embarrassed. "It's an 80's movie about a single father dealing with his daughter's social life. We bought it last year when-"

"Which I just realized," Hiram interjected, "stars Tony Danza. _What_ a coincidence!" he spat accusingly.

"I _knew_ you would go there," LeRoy groaned, "if you recall, you _asked_ me to buy that stupid movie.

"And you brought it home that very day," Hiram countered. "What was the rush? I've been begging you to pick up 'To Kill a Mockingbird' on blu-ray since it came out.

"Don't you roll your eyes at me!" Hiram snapped, barely giving his spouse a moment to respond. "I-I bet if Boo Radley had been played by the incomparable 'Tony Danza'-instead of that one hit wonder _Robert Duvall _we'd own the autographed collector's set!"

LeRoy just frowned at him: "Are you done grandstanding yet?"

Hiram gasped. "That's a terrible thing to say to a _Berry_."

"Gentlemen, gentlemen," Santana interrupted as she approached. "And lady," she amended when Carol glanced in her direction. God, these people looked lost.

"Auntie Tana's here now," she announced. "It's going to be okay," she assured them.

They just stared at her for a moment. "Santana, we're kinda in the middle of somethin'," Burt said gruffly and-

Ohmigod, did he just make a 'shooing' motion with his _hand_? Did they want to see benevolent Auntie Tana turn into Snix before their very eyes? Cause it'd be _that_ quick. Like, Wolverine's claws quick.

Its okay, she told herself-taking deep breaths. _They're not lashing out at you_, she reiterated, finding her peaceful place. _They're stressed_.

"I know, and I'm here to help," she replied as calmly as she could. She cut them off when it looked like they were about to argue: "Look, its after five now! If not for Quinn being late that certain 'something' you're trying to avoid would have already started-and you'd _still_ have no clue what to do about it."

"And you do, young lady?" LeRoy asked.

"I think so," she nodded. "Its risky, but I say we let the wedding to go as planned-"

"I don't like this idea," Hiram interjected.

Santana put up her hands, pleading for patience. "There's a place-in the wedding-where the priest-or the Justice or whatever-asks if there's any reason why the couple shouldn't be-"

"The objection," LeRoy interjected, "we know. But we can't-" He turned to Hiram for reinforcement.

"Our baby would never forgive us," Hiram nodded. "Believe me: we've thought of it."

"We've thought of everything," Carol lamented.

Santana took a deep breath. "You won't have to do it," Santana said.

They looked at her for a second. "What do you mean?"

"I mean," Santana began, "that I think someone will object for you."

"Who?" LeRoy asked.

"Someone else," Santana supplied. "A-A dark horse candidate." She was being evasive for more than one reason. It wasn't just that Quinn was a girl, but it had only now occurred to her that her plan involved the son of half the parents present to get jilted at the altar.

"And-and I'll admit that I'm not a thousand percent certain-"

"My word," Hiram flushed, "Miss-Santana, was it?-Santana, you're asking us to take a chance that-"

"Who is it?" Burt asked. And Santana knew what he was really asking: who was going to get their heart broken?

"It-It's someone who's in love with Rachel," Santana replied. "And she may not admit it-or even realize it-but I think Berry is in love with this person too."

"You keep avoiding _pronouns_," LeRoy pointed out. "That's how I talked to my parents when I was trying not to tell them I had a boyfriend."

"He was probably Italian," Hiram mumbled. LeRoy just shot him a look.

"It's Quinn Fabray," Santana admitted.

"Quinn?" Carol said.

"Quinn?" Burt parroted with a laugh. "I thought they hated each other?"

"Yeah," LeRoy agreed, "didn't they get into a tussle at the bridal shop?"

"Yes," Santana acknowledged. "No. They've always had this tension between them-and it hasn't always been pleasant-that's true, but-"

"What makes you think she's in love with our little girl?" Hiram said.

"Or that Rachel has feelings for her?"

"Okay, I told you: I'm not a thousand percent sure, but I know what my gut tells me. And-yes-they did fight at the dress shop, but I think they were fighting over the fact that Quinn doesn't want her to get married. And I think Rachel's only getting married because she thinks she's not going to get into NYADA.

"Let's face it," she continued, " this wedding is the dumbest thing to happen in the history of McKinley High-and that includes your daughter's video production of 'Run, Joey, Run'," that last part she addressed to the Berry's. "Although Britts and I did look really hot as angels," she amended.

"Where does that leave Finn?" Carol implored the group, and Santana felt for her. She really did: this was a Mom concerned about her little boy.

It was Burt who answered her: "Kurt keeps trying to talk him out of it. He thinks that Finn just feels like everything is going to end with high school, so he's holding on to the one thing that will carry him out of here.

"They're getting married for all the wrong reasons, Carol," he said gently. "If they really love each other, great. They can do this after college. But they're too young. There's too much life ahead of them to get involved this early. And Finn has to find his path, not follow Rachel's."

Carol nodded.

"We've got to do something," Hiram agreed. "I don't care about the nonrefundable fee. We've got to stop this wedding."

"Santana," LeRoy addressed her. "Do you really think this'll work?"

"Yeah," Santana replied. "I do." She was almost as confident as she sounded.

"Okay," LeRoy sighed.

And like _that_ it was up to her. Now all she had to do was get a repressed girl of devout Christian upbringing (and don't forget: filled with self-loathing!) to admit that she has lesbian leanings for the girl she once thought she despised.

Hell, what could go wrong...?

* * *

Grace Kelly left Hollywood at the age of twenty-six-on the verge of a legendary career. She'd starred opposite the greatest leading men of her era (and arguably of all time): Cary Grant, Jimmy Stewart, and Clark Gable. She was a favorite of directors like Alfred Hitchcock, and had already won an Academy Award. But she gave it all up to marry Prince Ranier of Monaco and in doing so became Princess Grace.

Santana was convinced that she would never meet anyone who aspired to that pinnacle of grace more than Quinn Fabray.

Santana could see it on her face as she stepped inside the courthouse: the lines of her damn near flawless features stretched taut into a thin smile-keeping it all in check-and heard it in the hint of the 'thank you' she whispered because some random stranger had opened the door for her.

Of course they had, because she really was the ghost of Grace Kelly. And Princess Grace never had to open a door on her own. Neither did Quinn Fabray.

Santana waited for her in the corridor, marveling at how she barely made a sound-even with all that taffeta and those heels. She had everything wrapped so tightly inside that not even physics dared betray her.

She noticed Santana watching her as she approached. "I know: I'm late."

"Hold up, I wanna talk to you."

"We can't. I already texted Rachel and told her I was here. She's waiting for me as it is."

"I hope you weren't texting while driving. That's dangerous, you know?"

"Thank you for the PSA. C'mon, we have to-

"It suddenly dawned on me why this is so hard for you," she said, searching her old friend for a reaction. It was subtle: a slight tremor at the corner of her mouth. "That, and I received a vision from my spirit guardians."

"Your spirit guardians?" Quinn quirked her trademark eyebrow.

Santana nodded. "Frida and Agnetha from ABBA," she replied. "They said 'don't go wasting your emotions'. Any idea what they meant?"

They were lines from the song Quinn sang in Glee club. Quinn definitely caught the reference, but barely missed a beat. "Did you start the reception early? I hope Brittany's your designated driver."

"You're deflecting, Fabray. That's beneath you. And I also figured out that you didn't flub the lyric when you sang that song in Glee club. The line is 'woman'. You sang 'person'. And-like everything else Quinn Fabray does-it was entirely on purpose."

"What do you want Santana?"

"Well, I'd suggest we sing an ABBA medley at the reception, but I have a feeling you'd turn into a blubbering baby if you heard 'The Winner Takes it All' right now."

Quinn frowned, and somewhere in the back of her mind Santana felt like a complete hypocrite: she totally played that song when Brittany was dating Artie and bawled her eyes out.

That's how she knew about its freakish power. That and 'Fernando'. That one didn't actually have anything to do with Brittany. It was just a damn depressing song.

"We're late," Quinn said, intending to walk away.

"Q, just level with me for once!" she pleaded. "I just-"

"What do you want me to say, San-"

"You're here!" a voice called to them from down the corridor.

They turned and saw Rachel coming toward them in her wedding gown. Santana acknowledged-again-that the dwarf did look pretty damn good, but allowed herself only a brief glance.

She was dying to see Quinn's reaction. "I just got here," Quinn smiled.

"I'm so glad," Rachel smiled. "You look beautiful," she continued. "I knew you would. That color is perfect-"

"Rachel, don't you dare compliment me!" she reprimanded with a laugh, her voice uneven. "Today of all days. This is _your_ day. And you look-"

She shook her head as she searched for the words. "Radiant," she smiled. "More beautiful than I could imagine."

Rachel beamed, and Santana felt uncomfortable-like she was intruding on an intimate moment.

"We're going to get started, then. Okay?"

Quinn just nodded, and they watched Rachel disappear back into the room.

Quinn released the breath she'd been holding, and sniffed back tears.

"I don't know how I didn't see it before," Santana marveled. "I know how hard this is for you," she confided to the blonde. "You spent your entire life building this shell around yourself. Hell, I've known you since we were freshman and I've only seen bits and pieces of the real you.

"But _her!_" Santana stressed. "For some reason you. let. her. in!"

"You think I want to?" Quinn countered. "You think it makes me proud of myself: that every time I was at my lowest and weakest she was there?"

"Q, you don't think that says something?" Santana offered. "That _she_ was there for you? It's not a coincidence. If I tried to pry into your personal life like that you'd tell me to mind my own business-_if_ you were in a good mood. But not her. Its like she can get right through that armor of yours."

Quinn nodded, acknowledging the truth of it. Her eyes glistened when she spoke. "I-I don't know why, Santana," she shrugged.

"Because you love 'er, you dumbass!"

Quinn chuckled at that, despite the term of endearment. "I wish it were that simple."

"It is!"

Quinn shook her head. "She loves Finn."

"How do you know?" Santana challenged. "Have you told her?"

Quinn couldn't meet her gaze anymore, and found something to look at on the floor. Probably the wet splashes on the dark hardwood.

Santana pressed the point. "Don't you want to be able to say that you were brave one time in your life? That just _once_ you stuck your heart out with no assurance that it wouldn't get broken?

"Cause 'what if', Quinn? What if she _does_ feel the same way, and you never say anything? Trust me: take it from someone who almost went there. It sucks."

Santana thought she was getting through to her, but instead of the determination she hoped to see, Quinn's expression was one of sad resignation. "No, Santana," she shook her head. "This is her day. And if this is what she wants I'm not going to stop her.

"And this isn't me being a coward-" she interjected before Santana could argue, "this is me being brave enough to put her happiness before mine."

"Q, what if her happiness _is_ you?"

Quinn treated that as a rhetorical question. "C'mon, we're late enough as it is."

"Quinn-"

The blonde rounded on her. "What do you want me to say? That this is killing me? Okay, yes. I'll admit it: it is.

"And-yes," she continued, "if I heard 'The Winner Takes it All' right now I'd probably bawl like a baby.

"You win," she conceded. "Whatever stupid competition that's always been between us: I don't care anymore. You win. Is that what you want to hear?"

"No!" Santana barked, "I want to hear you when they say: 'Is there anyone here who knows why these two shouldn't be wed?'

"_That's_ when I want to hear you! That's when I want you to stand up and scream: 'she shouldn't marry him because I love her more than he ever could-and ever will-but I'm pretty sure she loves me too, and for some bizarre reason we fit together perfectly!'"

She hadn't realized she grabbed Quinn by the arms, and was all but shaking the girl as she spoke. "Tell them: 'she shouldn't marry him because she belongs with me!'" Santana finished. "_That's_ what I want to hear."

She hoped Quinn understood how hard that was for her. This was the side of herself-the romantic, the poet, the person who believed that the sum of love was greater than it could ever be trapped in isolation-she rarely showed to anyone but Brittany.

But all she got from Quinn in response was a smile. "Brittany's a lucky girl," she said, her expression composed again. Princess Grace had returned.

"But that's not me, Santana," she admitted. "I'm not the 'big romantic gesture' type.

"Thank you for trying," she whispered, "and thanks for caring."

She looked up at the clock high up on the wall. "C'mon, we've kept Rachel waiting long enough, and the sooner we get this started, the sooner I get what could be one of the worst moments of my life over with."

Quinn turned and headed toward the chamber where the Justice of the Peace resided.

"Shit..."

* * *

Did the Justice of the Peace have the electric chair? Cause that's how Santana felt as she crossed the threshold into the chamber: dead girl walking...

Hiram intercepted her. He glanced over his shoulder to make sure Rachel was occupied. "Is everything going to plan?" he whispered.

"Yep," Santana lied. Oh God: why did she do that? Why didn't she just tell him that the plan was shot to hell and that they had to come up with something else-like maybe his kidnapping idea? In retrospect that didn't sound so bad.

He winked and nodded. "You'll be an honorary Berry for this."

"O-Oh," she stammered, sifting through her reactions. "That's great," she smiled.

He walked away to join his husband, and gave him a thumbs up.

Christ, Santana, what now? She took her place among the bridesmaids sorting through her options. Mercedes was between her and Quinn, so she couldn't even hiss in her former captain's ear when it came time to object.

And she had conflicting feelings about being inducted into the Berry clan. On one hand, she feakin' loved Rachel's dads, but on the flip side she'd be the dwarf's honorary sister. And that-

The sight of Quinn standing quietly beside Rachel derailed her train of thought. The former Cheerio stood completely rigid, eyes downcast, and Santana's heart ached for the pain etched there. How could Quinn put herself through this she had no idea. If Britt was marrying-

She shook her head to keep those feelings from latching on. She'd run that scenario through her head more than a few times, most likely while listening to 'The Winner Takes it All'. Damn song.

Tina put a hand on Quinn's arm and asked if she was okay. Quinn pretended to laugh, feigning embarrassment, and told her that she always cried at weddings.

She'll do well at Yale, Santana mused. But she could end up with more Oscars than Meryl Streep and still never top today's performance.

"You okay?" Brittany whispered in her ear.

Santana took Brittany's hand and nodded. "I am now," she smiled. She stood on tiptoe and confided in the blonde's ear: "I'm trying to get Quinn to speak up so that Rachel doesn't marry Frankenteen.

"I think she's in love with Rachel," Santana continued. "I just don't know if she has the guts to say anything." Which wasn't complete hypocrisy coming from Miss Gay Panic 2010-2011 or anything. "I've got to do something."

Brittany shrugged. "I don't know if there's anything you can do, Hon. Just cause we're happy doesn't mean everybody's going to be happy. That's why we're so lucky."

Brittany squeezed her hand just as the Justice of the Peace announced: "Let's begin, shall we?" As usual, while Britt may not always score the highest benchmarks via conventional testing, when it came to the important stuff she understood a lot more than most people did.

The ceremony was shorter than a church wedding. Hiram was sweating profusely now, wiping his brow with a handkerchief. Carol looked to Burt for support.

They were counting on her, and she blew it. What the hell was she going to do now?

And suddenly the Justice of the Peace was saying it: "If there is anyone here who can show just cause why these two should not be wed, speak now or forever hold your peace."

And he was smiling as he scanned the gallery-'cause this was just a formality, right? Tina was smiling, Mercedes was smiling. Hell, they were all smiles, because no one ever _actually_ objected.

That's your cue, Quinn, Santana thought to herself-trying to project her thoughts toward the silent blonde.

Britt was psychic, right? Maybe if she concentrated really hard Britt would pick up on it and telepathically pass it on to Quinn.

Still nothing. Shit. Hiram and LeRoy turned to her. Hiram kept nodding toward Quinn and looking at her with really big eyes and subtitles that read: 'What the hell's going on, Santana? Why isn't Quinn saying anything? You promised!'

LeRoy's subtitles just said: 'You can kiss that honorary Berryship good-bye'. He was the more succinct of the two of them.

The silence stretched out interminably, or however long the Justice of the Peace was supposed to wait by custom. Apparently satisfied, he inhaled a lungful of air and-

"Wait!" Santana blurted out.

The delay tactic worked. All eyes were on her. Unfortunately, 'wait' was about all she had. "Um," she stalled, racking her brain.

"I...just realized that this is kind of like a celebration, and I was going over the agreement in my head and, well-"

She glanced over at Brittany. "The TroubleTones are guaranteed at least one performance at every major event. And I think this definitely qualif-"

"Santana!" Mr. Shue reprimanded.

"Hush, girl," Mercedes chided. "This isn't the time."

"It can be quick! I was thinking that maybe, um, Quinn and I could do a song dedicated to the bride?"

Her eyes lit up. "Landslide, maybe!"

"Hey!" Brittany pouted, "that's _our_ song." Santana shot her a look. "Ohhhh," the blonde realized.

Santana turned to her old Cheerio's captain. "Or we could do an ABBA song: 'The Winner Takes it All' maybe?"

"Santana," Rachel huffed, "you've made it perfectly clear about how you feel about Finn and I getting married while still in high school."

"Yes," Santana acknowledged. "I think it's stupid."

"But I would ask you again to respect our wishes as our guest, and if you can't then just-just get the hell-"

"Wait," a new voice chimed in, unsteady, wavering. "Rachel," Quinn said gently, "Santana's not objecting for-

"She's objecting for me," she confessed. "Because I didn't have the courage."

"What do you mean?" Rachel questioned. "You said you wanted me to be happy," she reminded the blonde.

"I do," Quinn answered, eyes glistening. "More than anything. I just-"

"What?"

Quinn glanced quickly at the eyes of everyone around her. "I-I didn't want to do this now-

"I thought maybe once we were in college, and-and high school was behind us, things would be different. And we could maybe, I don't know: I guess I hoped that with high school just a bad memory, all the social hierarchy crap that seemed so important here would be irrelevant and we could just be-

"Different," she frowned, not able to articulate her thoughts.

"Quinn, you're not making any sense."

"I know," she nodded. "What I'm trying to say was that-once I was at Yale and you were in NYADA-maybe we could start over. There's so much history between us here and-"

She turned to Rachel's fathers. "I was terrible to your daughter. I did-and said-horrible things, and she has every right to hate me. I don't know why she doesn't, truthfully, but you should know the truth. You would hate me if you knew-"

"It wasn't one sided, Quinn," Rachel argued. "I'm the one who all but told Finn that Puck was Beth's father. I gave as good as I got."

Quinn shook her head. "But I did that: I lied and ended up trapped because of it. I said things that made you feel bad about who you were. I made you feel like you weren't special, when you were.

"You _are_," she clarified.

"I hoped it would be different after high school was over," she continued. "I thought that maybe you could come to New Haven or I could visit New York some weekend. I don't know how far it is-"

"Sixty-nine-point-seven miles," Rachel supplied. She shied away from the many eyes that turned in her direction, all wondering the same thing Santana was wondering.

A smile tugged at the corner of Quinn's mouth. "Sixty-nine-point-seven miles," she repeated. "That's not that far. And I guess I-I fantasized that we could explore our new towns together and-maybe-find a new favorite restaurant or a book store or a coffee shop and just be-"

"Quinn and Rachel," she shrugged, "without any of the baggage from the past coming with us. And maybe we-we could see what happened?"

"I don't get it," Finn interrupted. "Couldn't you, like, talk about this later? I thought we were getting married?"

Santana shook her head. That boy was clueless. And Rachel and Quinn were doing the goo-goo eyes thing again. She threw up her hands: "Ohmigod, will you two _bone_ already?"

"I don't want to _bone_ Quinn Fabray," Rachel blushed.

"I think she was talking to us," Finn waggled a finger between Rachel and himself.

"No, I'm afraid she wasn't, son," Hiram answered. "And-And by 'son' I mean that more in the universal way-denoting our differences in age-than in the 'we're soon to be related' way. I-I just wanted to make that distinction.

"And Rachel: there was subtext in what you said. It wasn't a denial, like you were opposed to boning Miss-"

He gestured to Quinn. "Miss Fabray, was it?"

Quinn nodded, beet red. "Might I add: congratulations on getting into Yale. Very prestigious." He turned to his husband: "She's an Ivy Leaguer."

"I know," LeRoy said quietly.

"I mean, an Ivy Leaguer in the family? That's-"

"Maybe now's not the time, Hiram," LeRoy stressed.

"Right," Hiram nodded, and steered his tangent back to his original point. "I was saying that you're denial wasn't really a denial, sweetheart. You said: I don't want to bo-"

"Daddy, could we use a different word, please?" Rachel implored, her cheeks matching the bridesmaids gowns.

"O-Of course," he smiled. "While you may have said 'I don't want to you-know-what' the Ivy Leaguer, what came across was 'I don't want to _just_ you-know-what the Ivy Leaguer.

"Do you have feelings for this young lady?" he questioned his daughter.

"This is crazy!" Finn asserted. "No offense, Mr. Berry, but Rachel doesn't have feelings for Quinn. They can barely stand each other."

"Guess again, Lurch," Santana quipped.

"Shut up, Santana!"

"Santana!" Mr. Shue piped in. "I think this is complicated enough without the sarcasm."

"Just keepin' it real, Mr. Shue."

"Rachel," Finn said. "Tell Santana: you two don't even like each other."

Rachel studied the floor for a moment. "It is true that-while Quinn and I have had a rocky past-of late we-"

"You _what?_"

"We've developed a-a _friendship_ based on mutual respect and-"

"Its more than that," Quinn said, silencing the brunette. Quinn's eyes scanned the floor, unable to meet the ones undoubtedly searching hers. "For me: it's more than that.

"I-" Words failed her, and she wiped at her eyes.

"This is bullshit!" Finn shouted. "I'm getting married, Quinn. And you pull this garbage now? You can't stand it when someone's actually happy, can you? Or is it just me in particular?"

Quinn didn't have anything to say in her defense.

"Finn, stop it." But Rachel did.

"No, Rach, I'm tired of her. She's lying. She's not your friend! She uses-"

"Finn!" Rachel warned.

"She ruins everything! Why are you so intent on fucking up everyone else's lives? Didn't you do enough damage to your-"

"Finn, SHUT UP!" Rachel snapped. The room held its collective breath as the diva's words reverberated off marble accents and hardwood surfaces.

Rachel's face was a mask of controlled fury: "She tells herself those things all the time. Don't you get that?"

She pointed to the blonde. "Everyone sees her and thinks how beautiful she is and how lucky she must be! But when she looks in the mirror she _hates_ what she sees! I won't let you tear her down because she believes it when you say it-and I won't let you make her feel worse than she already does!"

Finn looked around, probably searching for an outlet for his anger. He turned on Rachel: "Fine!"

He stormed out of the room using his typical tantrum maneuver number seven.

To the layman, maneuver seven was virtually identical to a number three, the only difference being that he didn't kick any chairs on the way out. But that was probably a good idea because those chairs were made of hard wood-most likely crafted by the Amish-and not the chintzy plastic ones they have at school.

There was a heavy Thud! in the hallway, followed by an 'Ow!'. Yikes! Turns out it was maneuver three after all.

An awkward silence fell over the room. Quinn and Rachel just stared at each other. Rachel looked down at her wedding dress, and it broke the tableau.

"I'm so sorry, Rachel!" Quinn sniffed. "I never should have-"

She turned to make her retreat.

"Quinn!" Rachel pleaded. The blonde froze in place.

Santana felt the moment slipping away. What now? She had to act fast, but wha-?

And then her spirit guardians came to her rescue, imbibing her with the power of Sweden's greatest exports. She didn't question it when the words came to her, she just took a breath and belted out the opening lines to a song-making just one _tiny_ adjustment.

But that was okay: Frida and Agnetha totally approved it.

"If you change your mind..." she sang, letting the words echo through the chamber. Rachel turned toward her, but Quinn just stared at the floor.

Brittany recognized the song, and chimed in a moment later with the backing vocals: "Take a chance, take a chance, take a cha-chance," she accompanied, singing a register lower than Santana thought she could hit.

"_She's_ the first in line," Santana continued, singing to Rachel but nodding toward Quinn.

("Take a chance, take a cha-chance-")

"Honey, _she's_ still free!" Mercedes burst in, and Santana smiled: it was going to be a TroubleTones performance after all.

"Take a chance on-" Mercedes sang, leaving the last word open for-

"Me," Quinn spoke up with a trembling voice, locking eyes with Rachel. They stared into each others eyes, and Santana had that same sense that she was spying on something intimate until she realized: they had no idea anyone else was even in the room.

Rachel nodded, beaming, and Quinn broke into the first real smile Santana'd seen in a...

Well, quite a while.

"So what now?" the diva asked.

Quinn gestured toward the Justice of the Peace. "I'm-I'm not ready to stand up there and take Finn's place."

Rachel laughed. "No, I-" she chuckled. "We haven't even had our first date.

"Yet," she added, worrying her lower lip.

Quinn held out her hand. "Can I interest you in dinner at Breadstix tonight? I asked the chef about Vegan options the last time I was there: he's working on some new dishes that I'm sure he'd let you sample."

"I'd love that," Rachel grinned, and stepped forward to take Quinn's hand.

Santana whispered sideways to Brittany: "I bet Quinn won't give her a pig for Christmas," she chuckled.

"Quinn could never give away that much bacon," Brittany reminded her. Yeah, good point.

The Justice of the Peace smiled as he surveyed the gallery. "So there's no wedding then?"

Rachel shook her head. "I'm so sorry about all of this."

Santana froze, Hiram's words replaying in her mind. "Nonre_fund_able...!"

"Huh?" Brittany asked.

"Wait!" she shouted to the court official.

"What now, Santana?" Tina asked.

"I-" she cleared her throat, and addressed the Justice of the Peace. "I want you to marry me and Brittany."

"Um-" the Justice of the Peace stammered.

Santana anticipated his argument. "Look, I know we don't have a marriage license or anything so it won't actually be an _official_ marriage, but-"

Her eyes scanned the room. "I know I'm a bitch sometimes, but you guys are the best friends I've ever had-and probably ever _will_ have.

"We say we're going to keep in touch, but you know how things are. Everyone means well, and we'll try, but-

"Who knows where we'll all be when Britts and I tie the knot officially.

"You guys are family," she admitted-her cheeks burning. "I would like to do this while all of us are together."

"We'd be honored," Quinn said, standing beside Rachel, hands intertwined. "And thank you." Rachel smiled and nodded.

"Hey!" the diva chimed in, "I thought you said getting married in high school was stupid?"

"It was," Santana nodded, "for you. You were marrying the wrong person. I'm not.

"Shit!" she exclaimed, realizing she forgot one very important detail. She turned to her girlfriend: "I haven't even asked you yet," she confessed.

Feeling very aware that everyone's eyes were upon her, she dropped to one knee, suddenly finding it difficult to swallow the lump in her throat. She and Brittany had never _actually_ discussed this. She just assumed they'd be married someday, but-

She really didn't know what the blonde was going to say. And what seemed like a slam dunk two seconds ago all of a sudden looked like a long shot. She felt vulnerable. She hated showing weakness in front of anyone-even the people she had just called family. And she totally just set herself up to look like a moron.

Wait. What did she say to Quinn not thirty minutes ago: that-at least once in her life-she should put it all out there? That if she wanted something that much she had to be willing to risk everything?

Wasn't Brittany worth it? She looked up at those blue eyes-sparkling like the waters of the Caribbean-and realized that she wanted to join her life to Britt's the moment they first met.

"Brittany S. Pierce, when I first laid eyes on you, I felt like-like I'd found my home. I've known for a long time that I wanted to spend the rest of my life with you-even if it took me a while to be able say it out loud.

"What I'm trying to say is:" she cleared her throat, "Brittany, will you ma-"

"Hell yes!" Brittany answered, pulling Santana to her feet and kissing her to a roar of applause and laughter.

Santana felt stinging at the corners of her eyes. Last year when she'd been so afraid-when she was pretending to date Karofsky just so people wouldn't suspect her secret-she never thought she could ever be this happy.

"This is the Best. Wedding. Ever!" Sugar shouted above the cheers.

Brittany took Santana's hand, and turned to face the waiting (and very patient) Justice of the Peace.

Right before he began Brittany squeezed her hand and regarded her with the most serious expression Santana had ever seen: "This may not be official in the city of Ohio," she whispered, "but it's official to me."

Santana's breath caught in her throat. Unable to form words, she just nodded.

Brittany grinned: "Can I tell everyone at school that you're my wife?"

She blinked back tears. "I'd love that," Santana said, beaming-and officially handed over her Miss Gay Panic crown and scepter to the runner-up.

And wished her luck: cause closets are dark, and it was so much better out here in the sun.

"We are gathered here today..." the Justice of the Peace began.

Rachel looked on, wiping a tear from her eye with her free hand. "I love weddings," she sniffed.

"So do I," Quinn quirked an eyebrow at her. "As long as they're not yours."

Rachel chuckled. For once words failed her-or maybe there were just so many dying to come out at once. Or _maybe_ Quinn had always had that effect on her and she was never able to admit it before.

She bit her lip and glanced down at their joined hands-only then remembering what she was wearing.

And as she committed this moment, this mental snapshot of the two of them together to memory, the strangest feeling of déjà vu washed over her.

And she smiled: "I think you'll like the next one."


End file.
